


Come Clean

by rowofstars



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, Awkward Boners, Awkward Flirting, Awkward Sexual Situations, Awkwardness, Developing Relationship, Dirty Thoughts, F/M, Fluff, Introspection, Lingerie, Naughtiness, Sexual Fantasy, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-18
Updated: 2016-10-18
Packaged: 2018-08-22 21:09:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8301130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rowofstars/pseuds/rowofstars
Summary: After Mr. Gold’s housekeeper retires, he seeks a cleaning service to take care of his house. He unexpectedly calls a lingerie maid service who sends him Lacey.





	1. The Maid

**Author's Note:**

> This is what happens when I spend almost 4 hours cleaning my house shirtless because I was a gross sweaty mess after the first five minutes. This could easily become a thing. There will be a part 2.  
> Unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine, feel free to point them out.
> 
>  
> 
> This is the combination of all the existing Come Clean fics. It was never my intention to make them completely separate. Where this fic started and where I thought it would go, ended up being vastly different. It's a true multi-chapter fic, not a series with divergent, separate fics. The individual fics will remain, but comments will be turned off so no new ones can be added. I reached out to AO3 to see if a series could be merged into a fic and it cannot, so I'm kinda stuck. All future chapters will be added to this main fic and will not be separate. Someday maybe I can copy the comments and merge it all into this, but alas.
> 
> I really appreciate all the support I've receive on this fic over the year I've been writing it. I hope you'll all continue to comment and give kudos here. <3

Gold sighed and flipped through the directory, frowning.

Since Ms. Potts had retired almost a month ago, it had gotten harder and harder for him to keep up with things around the house. It wasn’t as if he left the kitchen an unholy mess just making tea, and he really only used four rooms in the whole house, but things still needed dusting, vacuuming, or scrubbing. It was more that he was capable of doing on a regular basis with a bad leg and the hours he kept at his shop.

His finger trailed down the page, recognizing a couple of company names as ones that he’d used for janitorial services at some of his properties. Those were fine for storefronts and the hallways outside apartments, but they weren’t what he was seeking. Then his eyes landed on an ad for a residential maid service. The ad itself was, well, a bit obnoxious and overdone in pink, but the description said they were very thorough and discreet.

He smiled and dialed the number.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Three days later, Gold was pacing in the foyer and frowning, again.

He glanced at the clock and saw that it was two minutes till eight. The maid service he’d scheduled earlier in the week was supposed to start at eight. If they were late that would be quite a disappointing first impression. The woman he’d spoken to had been very nice, and seemed very professional, even if her voice was a little strange. It had raised his hopes that he’d made the right choice on the first call, which was so very rare these days.

As he pivoted with his cane to pace back down the short corridor, the doorbell rang.

He opened the door to find a young, brunette woman in a light blue maid’s uniform carrying a small utility bucket of cleaning supplies. A quick glance over her shoulder and he saw a nondescript white van. He was a bit relieved that the van wasn’t as ostentatious as their ad had been.

“Mr. Gold?”

His attention snapped back to the brunette, and he nodded quickly, stepping aside to let her in.

“Yes,” he answered as she stepped past him.

She set the bucket down and turned to him, waiting until he shut the door. “I’m Lacey. The service sent me.”

He stood with his hands folded over his cane and nodded again. “Yes, I assumed so.”

“They said you weren’t specific about what you prefered,” she said with a smirk. “But I thought that a man who lived in an original Victorian and wore suits everyday, probably liked the classics.”

He frowned a bit, unsure of what she was saying, and glanced down at the floor. It was then he noticed her rather odd choice of footwear, black patent leather stiletto heels. Hardly appropriate, he thought, especially for a job where one had to be on their feet all day, up and down stairs as they cleaned someone’s house.

“Mr. Gold?”

His eyes jumped to Lacey’s face and he saw her eyebrows raised slightly, her lips curved in a slight smile. Her hand came up and touched her bottom lip, then trailed down her neck to the buttons of her uniform. One of them was undone.

Gold swallowed and opened his mouth to say something about the button in question, when Lacey’s fingers made a deft little movement and another button popped open.

“Miss,” he started to say. “Um -”

“Lacey,” she said. One of her eyebrows arched further and her tongue flicked over her red lips. He hadn’t noticed that her makeup was rather - _overdone_ as well.

“Mr. Gold?” she said again.

His mouth worked, opening and closing feebly, his ability to form words completely halted by the slow undoing of button after button. Once the uniform was open to her waist, he saw what was underneath.

A black corset covered in lace that accentuated her petite form and lifted her creamy white breasts, pushing them together just enough to taunt the onlooker with the perfect amount of cleavage. Below it she had on a tiny scrap of material that he supposed passed for underwear these days, and a garter belt that clipped to her black stockings.

 _Oh god_ , he thought. Somehow he’d tried to find someone to clean his house and gotten some kind of prostitute or escort service instead. At least that explained the ridiculously pink ad and the woman with the sultry voice who answered his call.

She gave a little push and the uniform slipped over her hips and fell to the floor. She stepped towards him, kicking the uniform aside. Gold’s eyes roamed over her as he struggled to comprehend what was happening. She was stunning. And he was light headed.

“Does it meet with your approval, Mr. Gold?” she asked, her hands on her hips. There was something in her voice that made it seem like a legitimate question.

He forced himself to look at her face again. She smiled and he shook his head. “I’m not - um -”

“I can change. I mean I have other outfits in the van.” Lacey shrugged and then fidgeted a little, picking at a fingernail.

For a moment he thought she was afraid she’d disappointed him.

He swallowed and nodded, still not fully understanding how any of this had come to pass. “It’s, um, it’s fine.”

“Fine?” She inclined her head a bit.

“Yes,” he said, forcing a smile and his eyes to remain on her face. “It’s fine.”

Lacey winked at him, turned, and bent to pick up the bucket of cleaning supplies. She was wearing a thong, leaving her bottom almost completely bare save for the straps of the garter belt. Gold’s mouth went dry and he looked away for a moment until he heard the click of her heels on the wood floor. When he looked again she was striding into his living room, with a feather duster in her hand.

Shaking his head, he followed after her and watched, stunned, as she went right to work running the duster over the end tables. She carefully picked up each trinket and either wiped it with a cloth or gently dusted it, and he found himself calming a bit. Whatever he had mistakenly thought of her just a few moments ago, this woman was clearly a professional, here to do a job - that was _not_ him.

 _Thank god_.

He looked away, back down the hallway to the front door, and thought that he could probably overlook her _unusual_ choice of uniform if she did as good of a job as the service promised. Then he could send her on her way and never call that service again. When he looked back into the living room, Lacey had her arms stretched over her head and one leg bent behind her as she reached up with the duster to get some of the higher shelves. 

She glanced over her shoulder at him, her body stretched taut, and licked her lips.

Gold swallowed a very inappropriate noise, cleared his throat, and immediately headed for his study. He would just shut himself up in his office and work until she was done. Then he could send her on her way.

He just also had to ignore how tight his trousers were fitting right now.


	2. The Maid - Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lacey cleans the house while Gold hides, until she has to clean that room too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is becoming a thing. It wasn't supposed to, but goddamn I cannot say no to a woobie.

Gold shut the door to the library he also used as an office and exhaled.

His hand still on the doorknob, he contemplated locking it as well, but he _was_ paying her clean the whole house and that included this room. At least that’s what he thought he was paying her for. He had no idea such a service even existed, although his son Neal had told him more than once that if you can think up a form of pornography or sexual activity, it probably already exists. And it’s on the internet.

Gold shook his head and sat down behind his desk, running a hand over his face as he looked at two ledgers stacked there. He was behind on getting them entered into the laptop Neal had convinced him to get. Spending a day working at home was what he needed to get it done.

He just wished he didn’t feel so foolish, hiding from a woman in some lingerie.

Who was cleaning his house.

In lingerie.

Very _sexy_ lingerie.

Gold squeezed his eyes shut and forced the thoughts from his mind. While he waited for the laptop to start up, he thought about her name. Lacey. There’d been only one person as long as he’d living in Storybrooke with that name, Moe French’s daughter, but she’d moved away shortly after high school.

It couldn’t be her, could it?

He frowned and tried to remember what the hell Neal had set for his password.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Lacey stretched her arms up over her head and arched her back, waiting for that satisfying pop in her lower spine.

It finally came, and then she sighed and rolled her shoulders and neck, looking around the kitchen to make sure she hadn’t missed anything. She ran her hand over the edge of the stove, the stainless steel cool and smooth. It felt good against her fingertips, rubbed red and raw daily by sponges and cleaning solution.

Sighing again, she resolved to invest in a good hand lotion with her next check.

She had been pretty sure Mr. Gold wouldn’t recognize her. It had been eight years since she left Storybrooke for a failed attempt at life in the big city. All he’d ever seen of her before that was a teenager who wore short skirts or badly ripped jeans that got her kicked out of school, a wanna-be rebel with streaks of pink and purple in her hair.

The poor guy had probably been too shocked and confused by what was happening to realize who she was. That was just as well. It might have made it worse for him. It happened sometimes. People called thinking it was just a regular maid service, made the appointment, and then freaked out when the uniform started coming off.

They almost always kicked her out, but he’d been nice enough to let her stay and do her job.

That was something she hadn’t expected. For all the stories about Mr. Gold, about how fearsome he was, how mean, she had yet to see it. Even when she was younger, he’d always been decent to her, if a bit cold and aloof. He loaned her books for free from his pawn shop because her dad couldn’t afford to pay the fee for a library card, and he let her keep them until she was done reading them, not just for a week or two. She supposed that was because she’d been sort-of-friends with his son.

She shook her head and ran a hand through her hair, pleased that it was only a little damp and didn’t feel too gross yet.

Picking up the bucket of cleaners, she stepped out into the hallway and looked around. She had finished the living room, parlor, dining room, powder room, and kitchen, but she thought there was at least one more room on the first floor. Frowning, she walked down the hall towards the back of the house.

At the end of the hall there was a door to her left, so she tried the handle and it opened into a library. Shelves reached floor to ceiling on two walls while a third was nearly all windows. She turned and let out a small gasp when she found Mr. Gold, sitting behind a massive wooden desk.

“Can I help you?” he asked, his expression blank.

“No,” Lacey replied, shaking her head and putting on a smile. “Just here to clean.”

She winked and strode into the room to get to work, making a show of bending over to set the bucket on the low coffee table. Behind her she heard some kind of strangled, muffled noise, and smirked. Just because Gold didn’t know what he was ordering when he called, didn’t mean she wasn’t going to give him his money’s worth.

For a a little while she worked quietly and so did he, his head bent low over some ledgers. The silence was interspersed with the click of her heels as she climbed up and down the short ladder to dust the bookshelves and the occasional tapping of his fingers on the keyboard.

“How do you stand to wear those shoes?” he asked, daring to glance up, but quickly averting his eyes to the columns in his book. All he could see was miles of leg leading up to her naked - . He shook his head. He was _not_ going there.

"They're just shoes." Lacey shrugged. “You get used to it.” She clomped back down the steps of the ladder and then moved it to the shelves that flanked his desk.

He grunted some sort of agreement, but then added, “Seems quite impractical.”

“Let’s be real, Mr. Gold, this whole thing is impractical.” She turned with one hand on her hip and raised an eyebrow at him. When he looked up she smiled a little and gestured to herself and her outfit.

His lip curled a little. “Fair point.”

“But I get a good workout,” she continued, making sure to step carefully as she climbed the ladder again. “All this - _up and down_.”

Gold let out a short laugh and shook his head. “It shows.”

Lacey looked at him again and raised an eyebrow. He did his best to keep a straight, and therefore innocent face. She let out a short, snorting laugh, and he frowned.

The Lacey he remembered had a laugh like that, a laugh he wasn't supposed to remember quite so fondly.

"So how's your father?" He asked, taking a chance he was right.

Lacey froze and wobbled on the ladder, scrambling to hold on to the shelf, but she missed and tumbled backwards. She cried out and squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for the impact with the floor, but it didn't come. Instead something broke her fall then pulled her backwards.

Gold was on his feet in an instant to catch her, but without the aid of his cane, all he managed to do was grab her and pull her down into the chair as he fell too. They both landed with a grunt, Lacey's momentum pressing her against his body.

The next thing he knew he a lap full of Lacey, her back pressed to his front, her bare backside perfectly nestled against his groin. She shifted and he bit back a groan, his traitorous body already reacting to the proximity of a beautiful young woman. It didn't help that she was wearing incredibly sexy lingerie.

Bloody hell he was getting light headed.

Lacey tried to stand up as soon as her head stopped spinning, but his hands on her hips held her in place. She sucked in a breath, and _god_ , she didn’t know if it was cologne or if he just always smelled that good, but the scent of him had her biting her lip. The hardness pressing into her backside was unmistakable. So he remembered who she was, and he was definitely not unaffected by her performance.

Interesting, she thought.

Abruptly, she found herself being pushed up, and she stumbled to her feet, using the edge of the desk to right herself.

“Sorry,” she muttered, not daring to look at him.

He didn’t turn around, but he waved a hand and scooted his chair closer to the desk, hiding his humiliation. “No matter. Just be more careful on that thing.”

She nodded and held on tight to the ladder as she climbed back up. “Right.”


	3. The Maid - Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lacey tries to wrap her head around Gold, Gold tries not thinking about anything, and there's the promise of more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup. This is a thing. I love these two idiots.

Neither said a word for several minutes as they both tried to process what had happened. 

Lacey was used to guys watching her while she worked, women too sometimes, and she’d caught more than one with a _physical_ reaction. If any of them ever crossed the line into harassment, however, she was authorized to leave and they were usually not allowed any repeat visits from the service.

Gold wasn’t at _all_ like her other clients. Most of them followed her from room to room, leered at her when she was up on a step stool or leaning over the counter. That was part of it, she knew that going into it, but she hadn’t expected the way it would make her feel. After a whole day of being eye candy, of being reduced to a pair of small tits and a decent ass, all she wanted when she got home was a hot shower, sweats, and a book.

But not Mr. Gold. No, he stammered out a reply and then went to hide. It was almost sweet how awkward he was about the whole thing, and Lacey bit her lip around a smile.

Gold tried to breathe slowly and keep his eyes on his laptop screen. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair, but resisted the urge to reach down and adjust himself. If he just waited a few minutes it would pass and he’d be fine. She didn’t have much more to do in this room except vacuum and then she’d be done and could move on to the upstairs.

Upstairs.

Where his bedroom was.

His bedroom which she would be in.

Dressed like - _that_.

Oh this was not good.

“He’s fine by the way,” she said, and Gold looked up, frowning, only to see her bending down to plug in the vacuum cord.

He bit the inside of his cheek and shift in his seat again. _Christ_ , was she trying to kill him?

“Who?” he managed.

Lacey straightened and raised her eyebrows. “My dad.”

“Oh,” Gold said. Then he nodded and stared down at the keyboard. Her accent made her partially drop the last letter, and he smiled a little. “Right, good. That’s - good.”

“Yeah,” she continued, looking out the large wall of windows into the backyard. There were rose bushes lining one side, trimmed into a neat hedge, and lots of large pots with flowers. A little bistro style table and chairs sat under an ivy covered pergola. It was beautiful and she sighed.

Gold looked up and saw her gazing out into his garden. He remembered the only time she came over to the house, it was Neal’s graduation party, and she was one of the last to leave. She was lingering in the garden, walking in the grass and on the stone paths in her bare feet.

He didn’t know why he suddenly remembered that and cleared his throat. “Something wrong, Miss French?”

Lacey snorted and looked at him, her lips twisted but smiling. “I haven’t been called that in a long time.”

He smiled and averted his eyes again, shrugging. “Forgive me, I’m old fashioned.”

She shrugged. “It’s fine. It’s - nice.”

He looked up again and she smiled. Then he frowned a little and rubbed a finger over his lips as if in thought.

“So, does this mean you’re a French maid?” Gold raised his eyebrows, his lips twitching as he tried to keep a straight face.

Lacey held his eyes for a long moment and then snorted out a laugh, rolling her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said, shaking his head, but grinning a little. “That was -”

“Terrible,” she finished for him.

He sighed. “Yes. It was. I’m sorry.”

“That’s actually the first time anyone’s made that joke, though, so - .” She shrugged, and looked to the vacuum and then back to him, still smiling slightly. “I’m gonna get back to work now.”

He nodded and rubbed his forehead as the vacuum whirred to life, but he couldn’t keep himself from glancing up, watching her as she moved around the room. His brain understood that vacuuming was hardly an erotic activity, but he couldn’t seem to convince the rest of him of that fact.

Finally, she left to clean the upstairs, and he felt like he could breathe again.

And get up out of his chair without embarrassing himself.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Lacey stared at the door.

It was the last room. A bedroom. _His_ bedroom.

At least she assumed it was since she hadn’t seen any other signs of him using the other rooms. The one at the end of the hall she knew he kept for Neal. The baseball memorabilia and the ship in a bottle were dead giveaways. Neal was always one of the popular guys, the ones that didn’t belong to any one clique but somehow everyone liked. The one time she’d caught him working on that ship he made her promise never to tell anyone.

She smiled and then sighed at the door again. There was no use delaying the inevitable, and besides, she was getting hungry. A stop by Granny’s before her afternoon house was definitely in order.

The door swung open, with a slight creak as it neared the wall, and Lacey stepped inside. It was cool and dark, and she sighed, the change in temperature from the other rooms with their sheer curtains that do nothing to block the sun. It was going to be a terribly hot day and she knew she was going to be a sweaty mess by the end of it. She decided that she liked that Gold was first and got to see her at her best, though she tried not to think about it _too_ much.

She flipped on the light and looked around, moving further into the room and pulling the vacuum with her.

The walls were a light, peachy cream in keeping with the general color scheme of the house, but in here the color felt refreshing rather than old fashioned. The furniture was the same cherry color as the kitchen cabinets, and she’d bet it had all been restored meticulously.

Her dad told her once that the house was in shambles when Gold bought it and everyone thought he was crazy. But two years later it was a salmon colored show piece. Lacey wondered how much of the work he did himself, remembering how he was always tinkering with things in his shop. One time she came to return a book and ended up sitting and reading two chapters of Jane Eyre while he reassembled an old German cuckoo clock. 

At the time she thought it was a good excuse not to go home. But then she’d only read two chapters because she kept getting distracted watching him. It was the most oddly comfortable silence.

Taking a deep breath, she rolled her neck and sighed as it popped in three places. She’d give anything for a good massage these days, but one check already went towards rent and the rest had to keep her shitty car running and food in her stomach.

Lacey shook out her hair and sighed, trying to ignore how the room smelled like Gold, and bent to plug in the vacuum.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Lacey finished buttoning up her uniform and went looking for Gold.

This time she found him in the kitchen, making himself a sandwich. He looked up and gave her a tight smile. The temptation was there to offer to make her one and have her stay for lunch, but that was just - inappropriate. He thought she seemed so much younger in the uniform than her _other_ outfit, more like the Lacey he remembered.

“All finished,” she announced.

Gold nodded. “Yes. You did an excellent job. Thank you, Miss French.” 

He wasn’t just saying that either. He hadn’t realized how Ms. Potts age was affecting her work, and he felt a pang of regret for not saying something to her sooner. But Lacey had done a marvelous job. The place hadn’t been this clean in ages and all the rooms smelled fresh without having that sickening smell of cleaners. He pulled an envelope out of his inside jacket pocket, and slid it across the counter to her.

She frowned a little but reached out to take it. 

He shrugged. “I already paid the service, this is just - extra.”

Lacey smiled and tucked the envelope in the front pocket of her uniform. She didn’t need to look at it to know it was probably the biggest tip she’d ever gotten or would ever get doing this job.

“Thanks,” she said. Then she gave him a wide grin and placed a card on the table. “Don’t hesitate to call again, Mr. Gold.”

His eyes went wide as he read the name of the service.

Come Clean.

In hindsight, it seemed obvious that the service was more than it seemed. “I don't think -”

“We have a special deal, you know,” she continued. “Buy two, get the third one _free_.”

He swallowed and looked to meet her eyes. “Free?”

“Yeah.” She winked. “Free of clothes.”

Then she spun on her heel and headed down the hall to the front door, a little extra sway in her hips.

The front door closed with a solid thud, but Gold just stared at the plate and the ham sandwich sitting on the counter.

Free.

Of clothes.

She’d be -

_Oh_.


	4. Gathering Dust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the events of The Maid, Gold runs into Lacey at Granny's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thanks to thescholarlystrumpet (equipoise) for this one. Without her wisdom it would be less smutty and quite a bit shorter.

Lacey was bending over the desk when Gold walked into the study.

He stopped in his tracks and stared open mouthed as she stretched over it, the feather duster in her hand flicking against the lamp, her perfect backside pushed out towards him. She was wearing another corset, a dark blue this time, silky knickers, and her ridiculously high heels. She looked back over her shoulder at him and smiled. He felt his blood rush south and his cock swell.

“See something you like, Mr. Gold?”

Her voice was low and there was a look in her eyes, something in the way they shined in the light from the patio doors.

He nodded numbly and swallowed.

She straightened, slowly, shaking out her hair as she turned around and leaned back against the edge of the desk. Her back arched, pushing her breasts out, and she licked her lips, dragging her teeth over her bottom lip. Then she smiled and raised her hand, crooked a finger at him, beckoning him closer.

He started towards her and she hopped up to sit on the desk, her legs spreading so he could step between them. His hands settled on the tops of her thighs, squeezing the warm skin lightly, as she wrapped her hand around his tie and pulled him down to her waiting lips.

She attacked his mouth, demanded entrance with her tongue, and moaned into his mouth when he let her in. One of his hands slid into her hair, tilted her head slightly, and she pressed against him. Her leg wrapped around his waist and held him to her, moaning again when he ground his erection against her flimsy panties.

Lacey pulled back and nipped at his throat, followed the scrape of her teeth with her tongue as her hips bucked against his. He groaned and squeezed her waist, the friction too good, too much, too -

Gold awoke with a start, rolling to the side only to catch himself just before he tumbled out of bed. 

Groaning, he pushed himself up and rubbed at his eyes, still sticky and burning with sleep. Little zings of pain rippled through his damaged leg from the sudden movement making him wince. He blinked a few times and then shook his head, unable to dispel the image of Lacey from his half awake mind.

It wasn’t the first time he’d had such a dream, unfortunately. He’d been plagued with them for the last two weeks, ever since Lacey left him standing in the kitchen. He’d imagined a version of her in nearly every room the house. Except for his bedroom. And he was thankful for that. If he started picturing her in his bed -

Shaking his head again, he sighed and swung his legs over the side of the bed, rubbing at his aching knee and trying to ignore his throbbing cock. With another heavy sigh, he stood and moved towards the en suite bathroom, resigning himself to another cold morning shower.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It’s the tail end of the lunch rush when Gold walked into Granny’s, his suit impeccable and his cane thumping on the checkered floor.

Martha Lucas looked up from the cash register and shot him a glare before dropping change into David Nolan’s upturned palm. Gold just smirked and continued on his way up to the counter to pick up his usual lunch order.

“Good morning, Ms. Lucas.” He flashed her a crooked toothed smile, and she glared again.

“Mr. Gold,” she intoned. “That will be six fifty, as usual.”

He handed her the exact change, smirking as she made a point of spreading out the coins in her hand, and tucked the receipt in his trouser pocket. As he turned to leave, he nearly collided with the person right behind him.

“Excuse you,” he grumbled. “Watch -”

“Where _you’re_ going,” came a familiar voice.

He gaped and then snapped his mouth shut. “Miss F-french,” he managed, as Lacey stepped around him and moved up to the counter.

Gold turned and frowned, watching and listening as she ordered the exact meal he was holding his white paper sack, a cheeseburger with extra pickles and fries. She was wearing dark jeans that fit _very_ well and a loose cropped shirt in a deep blue. It hung off one shoulder, just a bit, enough to see the peach colored strap of her bra. He shook his head and then looked up to see Lacey looking over her shoulder at him in an all too familiar way.

She flashed him a smile and then leaned forward, stretching over the counter to grab some extra napkins, her body arching a little just like she did over the desk in his dream. He blinked and swallowed hard, his eyes drawn to her torso where her cropped shirt rode up a bit as she moved. A small strip of skin between the hem of the shirt and the waistband of her jeans was bared to his gaze. His tongue flicked over his lips unconsciously. Somehow that random bit of skin was more scandalous than everything she had shown him while she cleaned his house in that corset.

“Come here often, Mr. Gold?” she asked, turning around to lean against the counter while she waited for her food. The corner of her mouth curved up and her head titled to the side as she studied him.

He was in a suit, of course, this one a charcoal gray with a dark purple shirt and a matching tie that had on it some sort of black, swirling pattern. It was sharp, but the tie had a little bit of playfulness. She’d seen him a handful of times since she had been back in town, but usually from a distance or across the room. There always seemed to be something about his outfit, whether it was the color of his shirt (the hot pink one had been quite a surprise) or the pattern of his tie that was not quite as serious as the rest of him. Something that didn’t quite fit the puzzle.

She liked that.

It should have bothered her, perhaps, that she spent so much of her time examining these aspects of him and thinking about him, and exactly _none_ of her time examining _why_ she did.

He blinked and then frowned, unnerved by her inspection of him. “I don’t see how that’s your business, but yes.”

She gave him a look and then shook her head. “I’m a little surprised I haven’t heard from you.”

“Why?” Martha Lucas scoffed, returning from the kitchen with Lacey’s order. “You lookin’ to rent an apartment at mob extortion rates?”

Lacey laughed and flipped her hair back over her shoulder, then handed Martha the money for her food. “Thanks for looking out for me, Granny.”

Martha gave Lacey a quick nod and threw Gold another glare before she walked off.

“I see she still thinks very highly of you,” Lacey muttered moving towards the door.

Gold frowned again and then followed after her, keeping his eyes on the floor in front of him and not on Lacey’s shapely backside. His skin felt hot and the back of his neck was starting to sweat. He needed to get out of here and get back his shop. “Despite our differences, Miss French, the widow Lucas and I have an understanding.”

She snorted and held the door open for him, turning her body so that he nearly brushed against her as he exited. “The widow Lucas? Did I fall into a period drama?”

Gold huffed and started off down the street, but he took only a few steps before he realized Lacey had fallen into step beside him, her heels clicking furiously to keep up with his quick pace. He couldn’t believe she still wore those bloody impractical things even when she was supposedly dressing down. A part of him wanted to slow down and see if she followed him all the way back to the shop. He had a much larger collection of books now that Neal had shown him the wonders of buying and selling online.

Did she still love Austen and Bronte?

“Can I help you with something, Miss French?” he asked, straining to be polite. “Did you wish to look at a rental you can’t possibly afford?”

She rolled her eyes and smirked at him. She thought maybe if she could keep the conversation going all the way back to his shop, he wouldn’t mind a little company for lunch. At least then she wouldn’t have to go back to her crappy apartment and a passed out Keith Nottingham on her sofa.

Twice she’d almost just stopped by his shop, just to look around and annoy him a little. Maybe she’d even borrow a book, he probably still had the same ones. Ten years had passed but most of this town wouldn’t know a great piece of literature if someone threw War and Peace in their face. It could be an easy way for her to suggest that he might need her services again. Such a large old house probably needed at least a bi weekly dusting, right? She had a little pink thing that would probably make him lock himself in the attic to avoid looking at her.

That thought actually made her a little disappointed.

She wasn’t going to examine that either.

“Well, if you keep tipping me like that I’m sure I could afford it.” She smiled at him when he glanced her way, and bit her lip. “In fact, I’m a little surprised you haven’t called -”

He stopped abruptly and whirled on her. “ _Miss_ French, I won’t be continuing to _tip_ you. And I have _no_ intention of calling your _service_ again. Thank you.”

Lacey stared at him for a second, shocked. “Wow. Okay then.” She looked out into the street and then back to him, her free hand braced on her hip. “I’m sorry my efforts didn’t conform to your lofty expectations. But you don’t need to be such an _ass_ about it.”

He startled and took a half step back, realizing what he’d said. “I - Miss Fren -”

She shook her head and snorted out a humorless laugh. “ _Save it_. I’ll see you around, Gold.”

Gold sighed and walked the half block back to his shop. He set the sack with his cheeseburger down on the counter and went into the back room. He didn’t feel hungry anymore.


	5. Reorganizing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gold apologizes, Lacey breaks things, and a little "magic" happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so pleased you're all enjoying this verse. When I wrote the first fic I was fine leaving it as a cute one shot, but now these two are under my skin. Some recognizable dialogue and various events have been shamelessly borrowed from Skin Deep. :)

It was Thursday, and Lacey was quite surprised to find herself standing outside a familiar pink Victorian. 

Just two weeks ago, Gold had told her in no uncertain terms that she’d never be here again. Yet here she was. 

She’d been surprised by how upset she felt after their encounter outside Granny’s. Arriving home she’d slumped down on her sofa (less one Keith Nottingham, thankfully) and stared at the TV, running the noon news broadcast. She had made the mistake of thinking Gold was different from her other clients, that he respected her, that he was even _nice_. But apparently he deserved every bit of his reputation, the bastard. An hour later she’d remembered her burger, cold and soggy and leaking grease through the bottom of the paper bag all over the kitchen counter.

Two days ago the service called to tell her that she was going back to Mr. Gold’s, and that he had requested _her_ specifically. That request meant an extra fifty bucks in her pocket, but she wasn’t certain she wanted to face him.

Standing at the bottom of the front steps, she looked up and frowned.

What if he stayed in the house again? What if he didn't? Why the _hell_ did he ask for her?

Cleaning a house this big was good money though. Too good for her to say no to if she ever wanted to find a place that didn’t overlook the docks and have a laundry room that smelled like cat food. Sighing, she pushed the thoughts away and squared her shoulders, her heels clomping loudly as she climbed the wooden steps.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Gold really didn’t know what he’d been thinking.

Well, that wasn't entirely true. He knew what he’d been thinking and he’d been doing it with the wrong brain, as it were. Three fingers of scotch and she was still the only thing on his mind that night. He had intended to throw out her business card after their little confrontation, but there it had been, laying on his desk. Daring him. And he was a pathetic, weak man.

The doorbell rang, pulling him from his thoughts to the startling reality that Lacey French was on the other side of that door.

His door.

Wearing god knows what under her uniform.

He shook his head. He needed to apologize first and foremost, and if she didn’t accept, then that would be fine. He would pay her anyway, and she could leave if she wished or he could go hide out in his shop while she cleaned. He wasn’t about to force her to stay in his presence.

Gold moved to the door and pulled it open. “Miss French.”

She tilted her head at him, and then flipped her hair over her shoulder as she stepped past him and inside the house. “Mr. Gold,” she intoned, lifting an eyebrow slightly.

She set her bucket of supplies down on the floor and straightened, her hands immediately going to the short row of buttons on the front of her uniform. She could do this. She’d done this plenty of times. It was her job. It didn’t need to be anything else.

He caught himself looking her up and down. Her uniform was the same light blue but a slightly different style. It had only a few buttons on the front, and a fake apron on the skirt with a pocket. His eyes lifted and he saw her fingers plucking at the second button, the first one already undone.

Gold paled.

“Miss French, please,” he said holding up a hand and looking at her shoes until he was certain she had stopped undressing. “I need -,” he shook his head and swallowed, lifting his eyes to hers. She had her arms folded, her head tilted slightly and expectantly. 

He took a deep breath. “I want to apologize for my words and my behavior when we last met. I was quite rude to you when you were only trying to be nice and make conversation. What I said was inexcusable.”

Lacey considered him for a moment, and then shrugged. “It’s okay. I’ve heard worse.”

He frowned. “That doesn’t make it okay.”

She shrugged again and raised her hands to the buttons on her uniform. “Are we good now?”

Gold sighed. “You don’t have to, you know. It’s not -”

Her hands dropped to her sides, making a light thumping sound as they hit her upper thighs. “Then why did you call again? Why did you want me here?”

“The place was filthy,” he said simply, and she blinked at him. Then a moment later she snorted out a laugh and rolled her eyes. He smiled too, finally relaxing a little. “I’m quite serious, Miss French.”

Her arms folded again, but there was still a hint of a grin on her face. The hilarious thing was that she actually believed him.

“I called another service last week,” he explained with a slight shrug. “They were subpar to say the least. They barely touched the shelves and books in the study, I had to air out the place from the overwhelming bleach smell, and I suspect one of them stole the gold plated fountain pen from my desk.”

“Damn,” she muttered. “Did you report it?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Yes. Not that I expect anything to come of it, but Sheriff Graham knows.”

“I’m sorry.” She twisted the chunky silver ring on her right middle finger as her foot shifted, lifting out of its white pump and wiggling before pushing back in.

He looked at the floor and then back to her, his hand fidgeting with his cane. Then he met her eyes again, and she saw nothing but warmth, none of the sharpness from before.

He nodded. “I will, um, leave you to your work then.”

She watched as he turned and started down the hall to his study. He only made it a couple of lumbering steps before she called out to him. “Gold, wait.”

He turned back, crooking at eyebrow at her, and suddenly she was the one who felt nervous. It was ridiculous, but she did. “We’re good, right? You and me?”

He shrugged. “Yes. Whether you accept my apology or not, I have no quarrel with you.”

She smiled a little at that. She liked how he sometimes said things in more of an old fashioned kind of way, like the way the dashing love interests and heroes did in her favorite books. “I, um, I accept. Your apology.”

He nodded and his lips pressed into a tight, half smile. “Good.”

Lacey started to undo the few buttons on the front of her uniform and Gold’s eyes widened. 

“Y-you really don’t have to,” he managed, licking his lips nervously.

She smirked. “You did say the place was filthy. I’d hate to get the uniform all dirty.”

He swallowed. His throat was too dry. _God_ , he needed a drink.

The two halves of her uniform top fell open to reveal the top, lacy edge of a light pink bra. Then she reached behind her for the zipper that actually held the uniform in place and pulled slowly, letting the rasping, metallic sound echo through the high ceiling of the foyer.

Gold’s grip on his cane tightened and he shifted his good leg to keep from swaying as the blue uniform fell to the ground. His mouth dropped open for a moment before he clamped it shut, but he saw Lacey’s lips twitch in amusement. She seemed to be greatly enjoying tormenting him. He probably deserved it for being such a jerk to her, but it really didn’t feel like a punishment as he took in the pale pink and white lace.

She stood with a hand on her hip a slight smile curving her rosy lips. There was a white ribbon woven through everything, along the edge of the creamy lace, and up along the straps as well. Between her breasts was a tiny white bow, and when he dared to let his eyes look further down, he saw a matching one on the top edge of her knickers too. It was innocent and anything but, all at the same time.

He felt his face grow hot even as his blood felt like it was draining from every extremity and rushing south. Before he could say something utterly stupid, he spun on his heel and stalked down the corridor to his office.

Lacey watched him go with a self-satisfied smirk.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Gold looked up sharply when the door to the study opened.

Lacey flashed him a smile as she strode in, her heels thudding dully on the thick rug. “Why do you always hide away in here?” she asked, setting the bucket of cleaners on the large square coffee table. There was a delicate white and blue tea service on a silver tray sitting in the middle of the table that hadn’t been there last time. 

She looked around the room as she played with a soft rag in her hands.

“I have a lot of work to do,” he said, forcing his eyes down to the notepad he’d been writing on and off of Lacey French’s legs. He glanced over at the laptop screen and frowned. The numbers weren’t matching and that meant he’d probably done or typed something wrong.

Sighing, Gold leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes.

“For the shop?” Lacey asked, setting up the step ladder by the wall of bookshelves and then walking back to the table.

Gold hummed an affirmative. “Neal’s idea,” he said, with a slight roll of his eyes. “He thinks it will be easier for me to keep track of things if I keep them in a spreadsheet rather than my ledgers.”

He waved a hand at the stack of wide books on the side of his desk, and Lacey nodded. “Dragging you kicking and screaming into the twenty-first century, huh?”

He nodded and smiled, and Lacey turned back towards the shelves, catching the edge of the bucket and successfully banging her knee into the solid oak coffee table. Before she could even think about uttering a curse at the sharp throb that shot through her poor joint, the bucket tipped over and hit the tea set, sending a loan cup tumbling to the floor.

Lacey froze, her hands in the air, brandishing the bottle of spray polish like a weapon, her eyes fixed on the tea cup. She looked over at Gold who had sprung up out of his chair and was coming around the side of the desk towards her as fast as he could. 

She stared down at the cup. “Oops.”

She shrugged and pressed her lips together as he crossed the space to her side. “Are you okay?” he asked quickly.

Glancing down at her knee she muttered, “Yeah, but your cup isn’t.” She bent and picked up the delicate porcelain. The gilded edge just above the little blue flower on the side was chipped, a little triangle shaped piece missing, and she ran her finger over it carefully.

“It’s chipped,” she said forlornly. The cost to fix or replace anything she broke would come out of her fee, and Gold was probably a breath away from telling her off again and throwing her out of his house. She looked at him nervously and swallowed. “I-I’m sorry, Mr. Gold. It - it was -”

He shook his head and took the cup from her hand, turning it to see the spot where the small sliver was missing. “It’s just a cup.” He shrugged and set it down on the coffee table, then turned back to her, frowning.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” he asked, looking down at her knee and wincing sympathetically.

She let out a shaky breath, not quite understanding why she wasn’t out on her ass, and why he seemed to care more about her stupid knee than his busted, probably very expensive, tea cup. “Yeah, no, I mean it’s - it’s fine.”

“Sit down,” he ordered, guiding her very carefully by her arm to the leather sofa.

Lacey huffed as she sat, dropping the polish onto the table. “I’m fine, really. And I swear I’ll pay for the cup. It’s not -”

Gold fixed her with a hard stare as he knelt down on the floor in front of her. “Forget. About. The cup,” he gently insisted, then he looked down and touched her knee cap gingerly.

She could feel the heat of his hand, the slight roughness of his thumb as he brushed it over her skin. Her breath caught and her tongue darted out to wet her lips. She watched his fingertips slide over her knee, over the scar she got falling off her bike when she was ten, and everything felt -

“ _Ow_!” She hissed. His fingers had found the tender spot where her knee met the table.

He jerked his hand back. “It’s bruised,” he said, looking up at her.

“Yeah,” she breathed. She licked her lips again and he swallowed.

Abruptly, he pushed to his feet, stuttering an apology as he reached for his cane.

“Thanks,” she said a moment later, and saw his brief smile and nod as he walked back around the desk.

Lacey went back to step ladder and Gold sat down hard in his chair, shifting uncomfortably and pulling at his trousers which felt oddly tight. He watched her ascend the ladder, deliberate in her steps with those mind boggling heels of hers, as his thumb rubbed absently back and forth over the pads of his fingers.

A short while later, as Lacey was just finishing the upper book shelves, when she heard some angry typing followed by a few muttered curses. She looked over at Gold to see him leaning in squinting at the laptop screen with a deep scowl on his face.

“Problems?” she asked as she stepped down the ladder carefully.

Gold grunted and shook his head. “This _bloody_ thing.” 

He stabbed at a few keys with his index fingers, and when that failed to produce the desired result, he shoved the computer away and sagged in his chair. “I have no idea how _this_ is supposed to be easier than pen and paper, which has done nothing but exactly what it’s supposed to do for centuries!”

She bit her lips to keep from smiling at his grousing, and strode over to the desk, moving around the corner to stand next to him. “Lemme see,” she said, bending down to see the screen, bracing her forearm on the desk.

Gold slid his chair back abruptly, trying to move away from Lacey, but then she all but bent over him. His hands gripped the arms of the chair, knuckles white as he reined in his baser urges, her bare thigh just a hairs breath from his fingertips. His mind was flooded with images from his dream, of her bending over his desk just like she was now, begging him to -

“There you go!” she announced triumphantly, straightening and turning to grin at him. 

Gold startled and his mouth hung open as he looked from her to the screen where the spreadsheet he’d been working on was in a frightful state just a moment ago. He swallowed. “How -?”

“The column was just formatted wrong.” She shrugged. “And, um, I fixed the date function too,” she added, pointing to the screen.

He looked up at her confused and amazed at the same time, all while hoping she didn’t notice that the hand in his lap was rather strategically placed. “Oh,” he said softly and then scooted his chair closer as Lacey stepped back.

She was afraid he was going to be mad that she just pushed right in and touched his computer, looked at all his customers’ information. She picked at a nail with her thumb and held her breath as she waited for him to blow up at her, certain that this was the final straw.

His eyes scanned the columns and he smiled, much happier with the numbers. “Well that’s - that’s brilliant, Lacey. Thank you!”

He practically beamed at her, and she bit her lip as a grin spread over her face. She turned away quickly so he wouldn’t see the dumb look of relief on her face. “It was no trouble, Mr. Gold.”

She hurried back to the ladder and moved it to the next set of bookshelves, her heart pounding as she climbed up with her duster in hand.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Lacey found the relative silence as they both worked surprisingly pleasant.

There were the little noises from her cleaning and moving things, and then the loud rumble of the vacuum. But otherwise there was only the occasional grumble from Gold and tapping of keys on his laptop (he was very much a two fingered typist, she noticed). She caught him looking at her only once, when she was bending to plug in the vacuum, and she had to bite her lip to keep from smiling.

It was sort of fun to tease him because he very much did and _didn’t_ want to be teased. And she _really_ shouldn’t have liked that so much.

She was reaching for the zipper on her uniform when Gold found her in the foyer.

“Do you, um,” he said, gesturing towards her. “Do you need help?”

She gave him a small smile and turned, lifting her hair up so it wouldn’t catch in the zipper as he drew it up. He wasn’t slow, didn’t drag it out at all like she thought he might. But she was very aware of _him_ , his warmth and presence behind her. When he stepped back, she dropped her hair and hoped she hid her shiver as she turned to face him.

She shrugged. “Thanks.”

He nodded. “Once again, I should be thanking you.”

She waved a hand at him as she checked over her supplies, making sure she had everything. “It’s my job.”

“Well, yes,” he agreed, holding out some folded bills for her to take. “But not the computer - _thing_.”

She laughed and tucked the money in the pocket of her uniform, knowing that part of it was probably another hefty tip. 

“It was no problem, Mr. Gold. That was just Excel being a jerk.” Then she shrugged and ran her hand down the front of her uniform, smoothing out some invisible wrinkle before she walked to the front door. “I learned a lot about that temping in Boston, which was pretty much the pits, but - well, you know.”

Gold smiled and followed after her, reaching past her to open the door. “I don’t know, actually. To me it might as well be magic.”

Lacey caught the door with her hand, pushing it the rest of the way open. She looked back over her shoulder, startled for a second by how close he was (and how deep and dark his eyes were, but she was _not_ going there). 

“Well, Mr. Gold, if you need some more _magic_ ,” she said, lifting her eyebrows, “you know how to reach me.”

Gold’s mouth opened, but words seemed beyond him once she looked up at him with her sparkling blue eyes. A moment later she was halfway down his front steps, the door shutting behind her.


	6. Don't Do Windows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lacey visits Gold at his shop, and a conversation takes an unexpected turn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this part is a bit of a departure from the previous ones, but it's necessary to move these two idiots forward. It's also a lot longer than the other parts. I hope you'll bear with me.

Lacey tossed the shirt over her shoulder, somewhere in the direction of her bed, and frowned.

The black skirt was her favorite, but it felt too dressy, and with the heat wave that started yesterday, it was also far too warm. The pleated floral skirt was flirtier and made of a cooler material, but it made her feel like she should be going to Easter brunch. She huffed and leaned into the closet, digging in the back for her other suitcase, the one she hadn’t unpacked yet, despite being back in town almost six months. She was pretty sure there were some more summer clothes in there.

Lacey didn’t really know why she was putting so much effort into her outfit. All she planned to do was see about getting one of the tires replaced on her car and maybe stop by Gold’s shop.

Okay, so she did know.

But Gold _had_ invited her to stop by sometime, and today was one of the few weekdays she didn’t have to work. It surprised her when he just walked over and said hello while she was eating at Granny’s three days ago. She had felt everyone’s eyes on her, a mix of shock and curiosity, wondering why on Earth Storybrooke’s most unfriendly was chatting it up with “Racy” Lacey. He’d started to leave and then stopped, coming back to her table to invite her to stop by the shop sometime.

Sometime.

She didn’t know if that was supposed to mean something, but she figured today was as good a sometime as any. She wouldn’t stay long though, she’d just show up and say ‘hey’ and take a look around. It’d be full of old things as usual, the books were probably still in the back corner in the L shaped bookcase with the small window above. She smiled at the thought, remembering how she’d show up after school, late in the day before he closed up. Sometimes Neal was there too, until he started dating Emma anyway.

After dragging the suitcase from the back of her closet, and rifling through its contents, Lacey finally decided on a top that was comfortable enough for the sticky, stifling weather, and a skirt she forgot she actually owned. After wiggling her feet into a pair of strappy white sandals, she went into the bathroom and ran a brush through her hair before twisting it up and pinning it to the back of her head with a fat plastic clip, letting the excess flop down in a ponytail. She quickly threw on some mascara and lip gloss, not wanting to bother with anything else in the oppressive heat, and stepped back from the vanity eyeing her reflection. 

She was suitable she supposed, but then she looked back into the bedroom at the pile of clothes scattered on her bed and across the floor and nibbled on her thumb nail. Sighing, Lacey shook her head, feeling like some silly girl nursing a crush, but _that_ was just _ridiculous_. Still, her mind kept hearing his voice.

He’d called her brilliant.

He’d said her name.

Before she could change her mind and waste another hour swapping clothes, she grabbed her keys and headed out the door.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It seemed summer had officially come to Storybrooke, and Gold was less than pleased.

It wasn’t even noon and already it was sweltering. He’d shed his jacket almost immediately after opening the shop, and in truth he didn’t know why he even bothered with wearing one in the first place. His sleeves were rolled up as well, to his elbows of course, and so far he’d kept to the darker, cooler workroom at the back of the shop.

He glanced at the bead curtain that covered the doorway, waiting for a few seconds for the tinkle of the bell over the shop door. When it didn’t come, he shook his head. He’d been doing that since the afternoon he spoke to Lacey at the diner. It was pathetic, honestly, and silly. He forced his attention back to the reassembly of the clock he’d been working on, and just like that, the bell rang.

Lacey pushed open the door of the pawn shop, letting out a heavy sigh as the cool air washed over her heated skin. The door shut behind her and she sighed, rolling her neck and brushing a few stray hairs away from her face.

Gold heard her rather salacious sounds and stepped through the bead curtain, one eyebrow raised. "Feeling alright, Miss French?"

His eyes widened, taking in the red gingham halter top that stopped just above her navel and rather short denim skirt she wore. There were large red buttons up the front of her top, and wide straps that went up and over her slender shoulders to tie behind her neck. She looked so young with her wavy hair half pulled up and the rest swaying back and forth above her neck. For a moment he felt like he’d gone back in time twelve years.

She sighed again. “It's heaven in here.”

He let out a short laugh. “Is it? I hadn’t noticed.”

She gave him a look and leaned against the counter, near the cash register. “Well, it is cool, _and_ dark in here, the complete opposite of outside. So, yes, this is definitely heavenly.”

He nodded and moved towards her, his cane thumping softly on the old wood floor. “It seems the summer has come upon us early.”

She laughed. “Yeah, kinda rude though. I mean it’s barely May!”

Gold smiled and moved behind the counter, bending down to pull out something from the cabinet. 

“I have something to show you,” he said as he set the wrapped book on the glass top. He glanced up to see her eyebrows lift slightly as she watched him slowly unfolded the cloth and expose the cover.

Lacey squealed and then covered her mouth with her hands, bouncing on her heels excitedly. Gold swallowed and averted his eyes from the bobbing brunette back to the book. After a moment he cleared his throat, and she pressed her lips together.

“Sorry,” she said, a bit meekly. “But, is that a _real_ first edition? _Really_ real?”

He laughed. “Yes, it’s real.”

“Oh my god,” she muttered, her hand hovering over the cracked brown leather, fingertips wanting to touch it very badly but hesitant to do so. “It’s - wow, it’s just beautiful.”

Gold’s head tilted a bit, the corner of his mouth curving into a half smile at her obvious awe. “Well, it’s a bit worse for wear, but not bad.”

“Gold,” Lacey said, fixing him with a look. “This is a freaking first edition of Wuthering Heights. It’s _gorgeous_. But where the hell did you get it?”

“Well, I’m glad you think so.” His smile widened. “It was at the bottom of a box of books I acquired from an estate sale last week. They’ve been sitting in the back of the shop until I had time to go through them.” 

He’d bought the remaining items in the lot, after the auction was over, for a song because of course the family didn’t care and just needed it gone. Probably so they could fight over the sale of the house next.

She was still staring down at it, lifting her hand from the counter to float near the edge of the book only to curl it into a fist and pull away.

“Go head,” he encouraged. “Open it.”

Her gaze snapped to his. “Seriously? Are you sure? I mean -”

“Lacey.”

She stopped and swallowed, her eyes lifting to meet his. The sound of her name was soft, his voice lower than usual and his brogue thicker. She felt a slight shiver trail down her spine, but she was sure it was just that her body had stopped feeling overheated.

“Open it,” he repeated.

Reaching out tentatively, she eased open the cover, smiling as the aged leather squeaked in protest. Her fingers barely brushed the yellowed, heavy paper of the title page, feeling a slight texture to the letters from the over hundred and fifty year old printing process. Unconsciously, she licked her lips and turned to the first page, eyes scanning the words and old fashioned phrasing she used to know so well.

“In all England,” she read aloud. “I do not believe that I could have fixed on a situation so completely removed from the stir of society. A perfect misanthropist's heaven: and Mr. Heathcliff and I are such a suitable pair to divide the desolation between us.”

Gold’s mouth curled slowly into a smile as Lacey spoke the awkward and entirely too proper words. He couldn’t remember her voice to know if it had changed much in the years she’d been gone, but he did know that how it sounded now was - nice. It was unique, just like her, soft when she was reading, thicker and sharper when she was cursing at his vacuum cleaner.

She finished the line, looked up, and smiled. “Sound familiar?”

He scowled a little. “Miss French, are you comparing me to _Heathcliff_?”

Lacey snorted and shook her head as she gently closed the book. “A misanthropic archetype for a tortured romantic hero? And that makes me, who? Lockwood? No thanks.”

“Or Catherine,” he replied before he could censor his mouth. He saw her eyes go wide as his mouth opened and closed, struggling to come up with something to say that would undo what he had just blurted.

“Nah,” she said waving a hand and almost laughing. Then she moved away from the counter, turning to look at the glass cabinets on the other wall.

“You’re more of a Mr. Rochester type,” she added, as she knelt down to look at the crystal figurines on the lower shelves. “Brooding, wealthy older man with a kid, who lives in a big old house.”

Gold chuckled, uncomfortably, flexing his hand around the handle of his cane. “Well, Neal is hardly in need of a governess, and I promise that I’m not keeping my ex-wife locked in the attic. She’s still very much in Seattle with her washed up rockstar boyfriend.” He sighed and came out from behind the counter. 

He was past being bitter about Milah and their relationship, but that didn’t mean it didn’t still hurt. He hadn’t stood a chance to make her happy, that no matter how strongly he’d felt, Milah was never going to reciprocate.

She straightened, turning to face him again with her arms folded. She remembered bits and pieces of what Neal had said once about his potential step-father. They were less than glowing and included the words ‘goth rock’ and ‘guyliner’ which was enough to let Lacey know she didn’t care to hear more. 

She frowned a little and turned away again, walking slowly around the room until she came to the bead curtain. Gold was quiet. He’d put away the book and seemed to be busying himself with straightening random things. He also looked a little tense and Lacey regretted making the Jane Eyre reference. That backfired horribly as it left the implication hanging in the air that somehow she was Jane. And _that_ was crazy. She’d meant it to be teasing, but it had obviously reminded him of painful things. 

_You’re on a real roll today, French_.

Gold watched her for a moment, trying to decide between coming up with something else to say to keep the conversation going, or just going back to his desk and leaving Lacey to look around on her own. He had shown her the book, that was all he’d intended from this visit, but being around her and talking with her, the way the little teasing remarks were starting to come so easily, was - comfortable. And that wasn’t something he’d expected.

“What?” She asked abruptly, shaking him from his thoughts. He blinked and looked at her.

He shook his head. “Nothing, Miss French, I was just - um, would you like some tea?”

“Sure,” she replied, frowning as she followed him through the beaded curtain into the back room where he busied himself with a kettle and a small hot plate. She sat on the cot against the wall while the water heated and Gold sorted through some things on his desk. 

It was surreal, but oddly comfortable. 

One minute she was wandering around his shop, enamored with how many different things there were in every cabinet, shelf, and corner, and the next she was sitting on the old cot in the back watching him make tea. She liked it, and she didn’t.

Gold glanced at the bead curtain that covered the doorway, waiting to hear the tinkle of the bell over the shop door, unsure if he wanted someone to interrupt them or not. He didn’t know why he’d asked her if she wanted tea, he didn’t even know if she _liked_ tea. It just seemed like a way to avoid saying anything else stupid or bringing up bad memories when all he’d wanted was to see her again.

Lacey shifted on the cot as Gold poured the tea into two matching cups, delicate white porcelain with tiny roses winding their way around the rim. She wondered if it was one of his personal sets or if he just borrowed from whatever was in the shop.

“Here we are,” he said, holding out the cup and saucer. She smiled as she took it, setting it on her folded knee.

“Thanks,” she replied quietly. Her eyes were jumping around the small room, looking for anywhere to focus but on him. She didn’t know why she agreed to this. There were a dozen excuses she could use to leave right now, and yet -

“So,” Gold started, sitting carefully in his desk chair and leaning his cane against the edge of the desk. “What do you think of the place?”

She looked up from her cup and smiled as she bit her lip. “It’s just like I remember, full of _stuff_.”

He looked thoughtful and then glanced around the workroom, his eyes settling briefly on a few particular pieces, and the scatter parts of things he had yet to reassemble, before he nodded. “It has been a while since I did a proper inventory.”

Lacey shook her head, and brought her teacup to her lips. She met his eyes over the rim, and he watched her blow gently on her tea, her breath rippling the surface slightly, and frowned.

Gold was trying to decide between coming up with something else to say to keep the conversation going, or just excusing himself and leaving Lacey to sip her tea and look around the shop on her own. He had shown her the book, that was all he’d intended from this visit.

Of course, like an idiot, he had to bring up his past.

“Are you okay, Gold?”

Lacey’s voice shook him from his momentary brooding, and he looked across the space at her with wide eyes. “I’m fine, Miss French.”

She frowned and turned her head a bit, like she was trying to decide if she believed him. “It’s not because of what I said is it? I was just teasing about you being Mr. Rochester, you know.”

Gold let out a small, snorting laugh and set his cup back on the saucer. “It’s fine, Miss French. Even I can see, and admit, the resemblance. And I frequently share Heathcliff’s general disdain for other people.”

Lacey smiled and nodded. “I do too,” she admitted with a sigh. It was one of those things people never realized because they were too busy thinking what they wanted to think. She liked people, but she didn’t always want to be around them. “Frequently,” she added with an eye roll.

He leaned back in his chair behind the desk and titled his head in slight disbelief. “But you always seemed to be quite sociable. You and Miss Lucas.”

“Yeah, well, Ruby and I aren’t exactly besties anymore.” Lacey sighed and shrugged again. _That_ was a story for another time. “I think you and I are more alike than people realize.”

Gold let her comment about Miss Lucas pass, assuming if she wanted to elaborate she would have. Instead he chuckled lightly and took a small sip of his tea, testing the temperature. “How so?”

She leaned back against the wall, and shifted her legs so they dangled over the edge, nowhere near touching the floor. 

“Well, we both have reputations built mostly on what people _think_ about us,” she explained. “People in this town have never taken the time to get to know either of us. They don’t care about the truth, they care about the image they have, what they’ve decided we are.”

She laughed, bitterly. “And I know, I sound like The Breakfast Club or something, but that’s the real truth.”

He exhaled and held her gazed as he absorbed her words. Truthfully, a part of him had never quite been able to reconcile the shy, quiet girl, who had come into his shop so many years ago to ask to buy one of his books, with the confident and flashy young woman who put streaks of blue in her hair and always seemed to be laughing the loudest. He realized that he, too, had judged her and decided who and what she was without ever really knowing her. 

How many people in Storybrooke had known she’d carried around the most dog-eared copy of Pride and Prejudice he’d ever seen? Had anyone else ever seen her staring at the shelves of books in the back of his shop, taking nearly half an hour to pick out the one she wanted to read next and changing her mind four times?

Gold sighed. 

“Aye, that’s true,” he said finally, looking down into his teacup. “Certainly, there have been times when I could have corrected an assumption, but I didn’t. Sometimes those rumors and the reputation that comes with them are more useful than the truth.”

He glanced up and caught Lacey’s eyes, saw her mouth press into a slight smile before she lifted the cup to her lips. He swallowed and licked his lips. The truth had never gotten him anywhere but alone. And the rumors had only solidified that.

“They prefer their assumptions, and so do I,” he said, his voice quieter and somehow less confident. “I’m not sure that most people would like the truth.”

Lacey snorted, and Gold looked at her. “You mean you prefer being a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma?” She smirked when he rolled his eyes, then set her cup to the side.

He was sitting stiffly, with his shoulders a bit hunched like he was curling in on himself. Whenever she’d seen him around town he always seemed - removed, or aloof, like he was above it all. It never occurred to her that maybe he was affected by the assumptions everyone made about him, the same as she was when she heard the rumors about herself. 

_Racy Lacey_.

What would they all think if they knew that the number of guys she’d fucked could be counted on one hand? But that didn’t matter. She’d dated them, she’d kissed them, must have meant she’d given it up to them too. It’s not like she’d done anything to dispel the rumors. She’d used them and let their existence give everyone exactly what they expected. She was wild, unreliable Lacey French, skipping the last class of the day to go smoke by the docks.

Except she’d been in the back of Gold’s pawn shop staring at the shelves of books trying to decide which one she wanted to read next and nowhere near the docks or a cigarette. She just smelled like it because her old man was a walking chimney. He was paying for his choices the hard way, just like she was.

And, maybe, Gold was too. He did live in that big old house all alone, and, by his own admission, had no friends.

Her expression relaxed and she took a steady breath. “You really don’t want anyone to know the real you?”

Oh god, why the _hell_ did she care? What was she doing? She needed a drink. A not-tea loaded with rum drink.

He shrugged. “Most people who have didn’t like what they found.”

She was still looking at him, but he didn’t feel the usual judgement or derision that he did from most people, only a simple curiosity. He knew it wasn’t a good idea to open up to her this way, but for some reason he couldn’t help himself. Somehow she’d found the only window in the wall he kept around himself, his true self, the ugly beast within.

“Well,” she said as she pushed to her feet, wobbling for a moment as she settled on her murderously high heels. “I’m not most people.”

Gold stood as well and swallowed hard, his mouth dry despite the tea as she crossed the small space to stand in front of him. “No,” he agreed with a wry smile, “you’re not.”

She was close, very close. He could smell - perfume? No, something lighter, sweeter. Her shampoo maybe, or her -

Then she touched his arm.

Her hand was warm and soft, fingers curling around his arm gently. He barely noticed it though because nothing short of the sky falling could have torn him away from her eyes in that moment. A second later, she pushed up on her toes, pressing a light, barely there kiss to the corner of his mouth. A little gasp escaped his lips, leaving his mouth slack.

“Thanks for showing me the book,” she said, softly, dragging her palm over the bare skin of his forearm where his sleeves were still rolled up.

Goosebumps rose up on his skin and all he could do was nod numbly as she walked away from him.

Lacey spread open the bead curtain and smiled at him over her shoulder. “I’ll see you around, Gold.”

After a long moment, he finally limped to the doorway and stood there, staring through the beads into the front of the shop. The dinging clatter of the bell was still ringing in his ears as he absently touched his fingertips to the warm spot where her lips had been.


	7. Decontamination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of their conversation, and the kiss, Lacey and Gold do some thinking. Later, Gold books his third appointment, and Lacey gets out something special for the occasion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. It feels like ages since I updated this! Sorry for the wait. After this there should be about 2 more chapters and a possible epilogue. We're getting to the good stuff. ;)

_Fuck._

Lacey flopped down on her lumpy, ratty sofa and sighed.

She stared at the blank TV screen for a moment before running her hands over her face. Her fingertips touched her lips, brushing back and forth over the soft, slightly dry skin. She let her eyes close as the memory came back to her, how warm he was where she touched him, how his forearm tensed under her hand. His mouth had twitched under hers, just a little bit, just in that tiny instant.

She had _not_ meant to do it, of course. It was yet another one of those stupidly impulsive things she did that always seemed to screw up her life. At least the fallout from this wouldn’t be as bad as up and moving to Boston. She hoped.

_Most people who have, didn’t like what they found._

_I’m not most people._

_No, you’re not._

What the fuck had she been thinking talking about the truth with Gold? About reputations and assumptions, about how _alike_ they were?

“Fuck,” she huffed, pushing up from the couch and wandering into her narrow little galley kitchen.

She pushed up on her tiptoes to look in a cabinet and pulled out a bottle of vodka. It was cheap, but it wasn’t the _really_ cheap stuff. Which meant it only smelled a little like gasoline but still burned like holy hell. Her coffee from this morning was still sitting on the counter, half drunk and stone cold because it was too hot outside for hot coffee. Grabbing the milk from the fridge she mixed herself a half-assed white Russian and took a swig.

After the initial coughing fit, the rest went down easier, until the cup was empty and her head was actually spinning less than it was before. How that even worked she wasn’t sure.

Gold had just been there. Right _there_. 

Lacey had only intended to give him some kind of reassurance, something to let him know that she understood, that she was - well, _what_ she didn’t really know. That she was there for him? That she got it? The loneliness, the act that they both put on to be what everyone had already decided they were because that was easier than being themselves?

_Fuck_.

She rummaged in her cupboard again, praying there was something that wasn’t industrial grade vodka, and by the grace of some deity found a dusty bottle of rum. She poured some into the empty coffee mug, cracked open her last can of Coke, and tossed the mixture back. She winced, but more at the stark change of flavor in her mouth than any burn or discomfort. Maybe the previous pseudo-cocktail had numbed her throat.

_What the bloody hell, French?_

Lacey sighed and mixed another drink. Then she took her bottle of rum and cup back to the sofa, setting both on the coffee table before she sat. After another long moment of staring at the TV, she finally picked up the remote and turned it on just to have noise that wasn’t the meandering thoughts in her head.

One minute they’d been having a nice, friendly, maybe slightly flirty conversation, and the next she was sipping tea and getting all existential. That was the point she knew she had to leave, the point where she said too much, opened the window to her soul just a bit too wide, until he was looking in as much as she was looking out.

And then she'd looked into his eyes. They were - soulful - and such a deep, dark brown, rich like morning coffee. But they shone with something she couldn't identify, something that felt like it was pulling her in, like she could drown in his gaze and be happy about it. _Fuck_ , when had she started to think like that about Gold? About anyone, honestly. No one since Garrett had even really turned her head for more than a night.

But for the first time in a long time, she felt _seen_. Gold looked at her and saw _her_. And for some reason he seemed to like her, at least enough to talk to and spend time with, even when it wasn't forced because she was working in his house. That was another thing she'd been wondering about, why he stayed home when she was there. After the first time, she thought he'd trust her enough to let her work alone, yet there he was, hold up in his office is working on things he probably could have done at his shop.

She liked it.

She liked being looked at by him. She didn't feel cheap, didn't feel like she was on display. It was like he saw this part of her too, the uncertain, faintly chipped part, and accepted it as much as the bookworm who used to linger in his shop, who borrowed books and made herself keep them for a week so he wouldn't know she'd finished them in a day. He'd called her on that after a little while, told her she didn't have to worry about how quickly or not she returned them, as long as she did eventually. He'd seen her even then, whether she'd known it or not.

And now she might have ruined it.

A call came that evening from the service. Apparently Gold had booked another appointment a week from now, and since she’d done the first two, she got first dibs on the third. She was lucky the whole thing was automated, a brief recorded message and then a menu that consisted of one for ‘yes I’m confirming the job’, two for ‘no fuck off’, and three for - something else. Whatever. She was drunk, and it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered.

Certainly not the cut of Gold’s suits and how soft his hair looked. Nope. None of that. Not his goddamn eyes either.

She pressed one, of course, and then threw the phone. It bounced off the headboard and landed on her bed a second before she did too, flopping on her back while the room wobbled. She was seriously going to regret this in the morning. The booze and the job. Probably. Maybe.

_Damn_ him.

Lacey grabbed her pillow, punched it a couple of times, and then buried her face in it, doing her best to ignore the world and her thoughts before she fell asleep.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Gold sighed and ran his thumb over the screen of his phone.

There was a glass of scotch close at hand, but he hadn’t touched it after the first sip. If he had, he might be less nervous, might feel a little cockier and self assured. Hell, he might even think this was a _good_ idea.

The hot pink business card had been replaced with a contact in his cell phone under the very ambiguous name of CC Services. He didn’t know why he’d done that, it’s not like anyone else looked at his phone. And even if they did, Come Clean was hardly an overtly suggestive name, unless one knew of the company and what they did.

And certainly some people in town did, if Lacey’s schedule was anything to go by.

He just wished he knew what the hell that kiss meant. If it meant anything at all. Friends did that, right? As just friends? Were they even friends at all? His mind had briefly considered it to be a ploy for more money, but he knew better than that. At least _now_ he did. A few weeks back he might have run with that train of thought and made a right arse of himself, but now maybe he thought he knew.

He eyed the glass and made himself take another drink, breathing deeply as the warm burn subsided in his throat. Then before he lost his nerve, he tapped the screen once and lifted the phone to his ear.

 

 

* * *

 

 

A pair of sheer black panties went flying through the air, catching on the handle of the closet door. A single cream colored thigh high stocking followed shortly after. Lacey dug through the drawer, flinging a couple more articles of very revealing lingerie over her shoulder, looking for the dark blue set she'd bought a couple weeks ago. She’d paid for it with Gold's tip money. It was fitting, she figured, to wear it for him since he kind of paid for it.

_For him._

Oh no. No no no. She never let herself think about it that way. She didn't wear the lingerie for her clients, she wore it for herself, in the course of doing her job. It was required, yes, but it was always what _she_ wanted to wear that day. Even if the client had a preference for a type or color, she ultimately decided what went on her body.

Lacey shook her head. What the fuck was wrong with her? Her night of drinking a few days ago, after she came home from Gold’s shop, had put her brain out of commission. She’d spent two days laying on the sofa or her bed until she wasn’t grossed out by the sight of food. And not once did she wax poetic about being understood or stupid period romances or Gold’s - _anything_.

Okay, _that_ might have been a bit of a lie. There was a dream. Or two.

Sighing, she pulled open another drawer and smirked. There was the red tissue paper and the gold heart sticker holding it together. She lifted it out carefully, and smoothed her hands over it, her fingertips tracing the edge of the heart. It was stupid, and silly, but she really had bought it with Gold in mind. As soon as she saw it in the window she could imagine the dumb look on his face, the way his eyes would go wide, his jaw slack, just like the first time. She at least had to try it on, and of _course_ it fit like a glove and looked like sin. With her patent navy heels he was a goner.

She shook her head and stood up, setting the wrapped package on the corner of her bed. Maybe she was a goner too.

_Fuck._

She liked him.

She liked him, and she was fucked.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Too soon Lacey was standing on Gold’s front porch, again.

Her previous two visits had gone well, she didn’t have any real reason to believe this would be any different. But this was different, very different, at least for her. She knew at least something of what she was feeling now and that gave everything she did here weight.

She exhaled and rang the doorbell, then took a step back.

A figure block the stained glass window for a moment, and then the door opened. Gold looked down and blinked at her like he was surprised, but then his expression shifted and he gave her a slight smile.

“Hey,” she said, returning his smile. 

He nodded and stepped aside, holding the door for her as she entered. Her stomach fluttered as she set her bucket of cleaners on the floor. Her hair was up in clip but she flipped the ends back over her shoulder. It was a small thing but it delayed the inevitable just a few more seconds. She took a breath and reached behind her for the zipper of her uniform.

Gold limped past her and turned to stand by the stairs as he had on her previous visits. When he turned around Lacey was already dragging down the zipper, and he looked away as the rasping sound seemed to echo in the high ceiling of the foyer. He tried to breathe steady and not let his eyes settle anywhere for too long as she pulled her arms free and then pushed the skirt over her hips. He looked up when he heard the soft noise of the fabric hitting the floor.

Lacey smirked as she saw Gold’s eyes widen and his lips part for a moment and then close. She knew she’d chosen well. He met her eyes for an instant and then looked down. The dark blue bustier was overlaid with black lace and lifted her breasts to make her look like she had a little more cleavage than usual. The straps were a halter style that went up over her shoulders and tied behind her neck, while the front, from under her breasts to her navel, was a sheer lace window. 

She put her hands on her hips, feeling her confidence rising as his gaze traveled down to the matching knickers and stockings. She could do this. No problem.

His mouth was bone dry and he couldn’t have formed words if his life depended on it. She was stunning, perfect, and it seemed unfair that she was here to clean his house while looking that sinful. A woman as beautiful as her, dressed in - _that_ , should be laid out in a bed and worshiped. She should be sobbing with pleasure and - 

He licked his lips. He had never felt like such a dirty old man

Lacey’s hands went up behind her neck where she started to slowly pull on the ribbon that held the straps up. “This is your third appointment,” she said.

Gold forced himself to look her in the eye again, and he watched as she tugged the ribbon and held it out to the side. He reminded himself that she was paid to do this, that _he_ was paying her to do this, and for some reason that fact sat like lead in his gut. In a moment she’d be completely exposed, every inch of her, and while it might be what the darker, baser part of him wanted, there was something that twisted at him inside. It felt wrong.

He swallowed hard and held up a hand just as she was tugging the ribbon loose. “Lacey, please,” he said. She stopped and frowned slightly. 

Her hands lowered, trailing along each end of the wide ribbon. “What’s wrong?”

“You don’t have to,” he explained. “I know it’s part of the deal, but - _please_ , you don’t -” 

He stopped and took a breath, shaking his head. “You don’t need to unless _you_ want to. You’ll be paid the same either way, just -”

He sighed again, shrugged, and waited.

She rocked from one foot to the other as she stared at him. For a moment she’d felt rejected, that maybe he didn’t want to see her after all, which would have been okay really, but he was giving her a choice. Her confidence from earlier suddenly felt false in light of that. Her lips pursed as she weighed her options. On the one hand, she’d been prepared to strip right here in his foyer and carry on with her work just like it was any other job. On the other, she was a bit concerned he might run away and hide forever if she did. Or have a heart attack on the spot.

That wouldn’t really be conducive to having a conversation. Or getting paid. And that was the real point of all this, she reminded herself.

She lifted her hands again and retied the ribbon, pulling it tight against the back of her neck until she was sure it would hold up.

Gold breathed a sigh of relief and smiled at her again. “Alright?” he asked as she picked up her bucket of supplies and stepped towards him.

She smiled, the first smile she felt since she’d arrived, and paused to pat his shoulder as she walked by. “Thanks,” she said softly. Then her hand dropped and she moved on, calling out, “I’ll start in the kitchen.”

He turned halfway around and watched her go, his eyes fixed on the seam that went up the back of her stockings, feeling like he’d just barely dodged a bullet.


	8. Picking Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gold is skittish around Lacey, which leaves her feeling a little lost and confused. Some local news reveals a little of Lacey's past, and Gold's first name is revealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place immediately following the last chapter, Decontamination. It's been ages since I wrote this verse. It might be terrible.

Gold followed Lacey into the kitchen, not knowing what else to do. He watched and waited in the doorway while she started getting out her supplies. He didn’t know where the easy rapport they’d had in his shop had gone, but he was sure it was his fault somehow that he had messed things up.

After an awkward conversation about the weather, he left her to her work, and retreated to the solitude of the study. He assumed he could safely hide in here for at least an hour or two as she followed her usual routine of kitchen, dining room, and living room. But barely twenty minutes later, he heard Lacey’s heels in the hallway. He looked up from his desk, surprised to see her in the doorway.

“Miss French?”

She gave him a tight smile. “Mr. Dove is fixing something with the sink in the kitchen. Is it okay if I vacuum in here now?”

He chided himself for forgetting to tell her that the garbage disposal had up and quit two nights ago, and that Dove would be stopping by to replace it. He glanced around, not really having any available excuse why she shouldn’t vacuum his study right this minute. Well, aside from sorry I might get an unfortunate and awkward erection just from looking at you in that lingerie. But he could hardly say _that_ out loud.

He shook his head and motioned with his pen towards the center of the room. “My apologies, I forgot to mention that he would be here. Go right ahead.”

Lacey gave him a small nod and then crossed the room. She knelt to plug in the vacuum, and Gold caught his eyes drifting to watch her. She balanced so easily on her tiptoes, despite once again wearing heels that couldn’t possibly be practical or comfortable for house cleaning. He knew it was part of “the look,” but it was also the perfect way to make her legs entirely too distracting. Part of him still couldn’t believe he had let this happen. He swore after she visited his shop that he was done, that it was best to leave things be and not get his hopes up.

Of course, that wasn’t the only thing that was getting up as Lacey bent to wipe off the side table. He had a perfect view of her breasts, lifted and pressed together by the bustier. His eyes glazed over as he imagined licking the gap between them, kissing the soft, rounded tops on his way up to her slender neck -

He shook his head and then froze as he realized she was looking at him.

Her lips twitched a little before she pressed them together. Then she asked, “Is that a no?”

_No? No what?_

“Um,” he replied, eyes darting from her to the window and then the door. He was half hard in his trousers like some randy teenager, while this lovely woman who was just being professional and cleaning his house had asked him a question. 

“I’m sorry?” he finally replied.

She rolled her eyes and shook her head, flipping her hair over her shoulder with a hand. There was a slight smile on her face so he figured he wasn’t in too much trouble.

“I asked if you had any of that lemon scented polish,” she said, holding up an aerosol can covered in bright flowers. “I thought I had more but all that’s in here in this flowery stuff, and I know you _hate_ that.”

Erection subsiding at the thought of the heavy, noxious floral scent, Gold sighed. “Yes, in the linen closet.”

Lacey smiled and strode out into the hallway, her heels loud against the wood floor and echoing off the high ceilings.

He exhaled again and rested his head in his hands, the heels of his palms pressing against his eyes. He had to stop thinking this way about Lacey. It was inappropriate, and if she found out, he knew she would be mortified and probably refuse to ever come here again. Even having her work for him, was starting to feel wrong. He wasn’t sure what he really wanted from her anyway. They had formed an unexpected friendship, and he felt like she understood him, _saw_ him, in a way others rarely did. Yet he was uneasy about it as well. He didn’t let people in, ever, and the few he had over the years had all but ruined his heart. 

Gold sighed again, chiding himself. He needed to stop all this before it went any further.

When Lacey came back in the room, wagging a bottle of wood polish at him and smiling, he stood and gathered up his laptop and papers. He would go work in the kitchen until she was finished. It was nearly noon anyway, but he didn’t feel all that hungry with so many things on his mind.

She frowned at him as he passed her, turning to follow his movements as he limped awkwardly with the computer tucked under his arm.

“I’ll be in the kitchen,” he said.

Lacey nodded, fingers tightening around the bottle in her hand. She moved to the bookshelves and then looked to him again when she didn’t hear any movement. He was still standing there, head bent like he was staring at the floor.

“You okay, Gold?” she asked hesitantly.

He looked up. “Of course.”

She shrugged and sprayed some of the polish onto the rag in her hand and started rubbing it against the front of the shelf.

She glanced to the side, and Gold looked back over his shoulder before he left the room, flashing her a small, tight smile that left her feeling like shit. He’d done almost the same thing when he’d come into the kitchen earlier. She’d tried to start a conversation, something lame about maybe the heat wave breaking this weekend. He’d managed an ‘oh, yes’ and a sharp nod, and then he’d practically fled her presence to hide in here.

She’d stood there with the rag in her hand, breathing in the tangy scent of lemon. Something was wrong with him and she was pretty sure it was her fault somehow. Clearly her assumption that everything was fine, that they were fine, wasn’t right at all. He didn’t want to talk to her, he didn’t even want to be in the same room as her. He could barely even _look_ at her. Maybe she’d gotten everything wrong. This was just a job. She was just Miss French.

_Fuck_.

“Way to go, French,” she muttered under her breath.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Gold let out a sort of scoffing laugh as he scanned the Arts and Life section of the local newspaper. There was a somewhat surprising engagement announcement in the back section. He wondered if Lacey knew and if she didn’t why she hadn’t mentioned it. It seemed like the sort of thing she would talk about, Ruby was her best friend after all.

“What’s so funny?” came the voice of the woman in question.

She lumbered into the room awkwardly, lugging the vacuum in one hand and her bucket of supplies in the other. She set both down and arched her back, stretching the contorted muscles, and Gold made himself look away. Being in the office with her for those few minutes had been near torture. He was going to have to stay on the other side of the counter to avoid any further awkward - _reactions_.

“Just this,” he replied, turning the paper around and pushing it across the marble island. He touched his finger to the article to show her what he had been reading and then straightened.

Lacey bent forward and skimmed the words, though the picture posted with it was enough to give her the gist of the announcement. Ruby was beaming at the camera and standing next to Victor Whale. His arm was around her waist, holding her close. They both looked very happy, and for some reason that made her chest hurt and her throat tight.

“Well, good for her,” she mumbled. Then she turned and set about unwinding the vacuum cord and plugging it into the open outlet by the toaster.

He pulled the paper back and folded it closed, tucking the smaller section back into the fold of the rest of the newspaper. “You don’t sound happy for her.”

She shrugged. “Ruby always wanted to move away from here, become an actress, and marry a rich guy. I guess she got at least one of those.”

“I thought that’s what you both wanted,” he said. He cringed inwardly. The way the words came sounding almost like he was accusing her of being a gold digger. 

She looked up at him and shrugged again, letting the rag in her hand flop to the counter. “I just wanted _out_ , period.”

A soft ‘ _ah_ ’ was his only reply and then both of them went quiet.

“I left without her,” she said suddenly. The rag was back in her right hand while the other shifted the ceramic jars he used for flour and sugar out of the way. “A week after graduation, I made a pile of all my cash, packed a bag and I was in Boston before sunset.”

“She was supposed to go with you?” His eyebrows lifted in question and she nodded. “And you left without her? Why?”

She turned away and pushed the sugar jar back against the tile backsplash.

Gold frowned. “I thought that you and Miss Lucas were friends?”

Lacey shrugged and pushed up on her tiptoes to wipe the glass front of the cabinet. “ _Were_ is right.”

He watched her for a moment as she stepped to the side and cleaned the next cabinet, and then the next one after that, until she reached the corner. “You were inseparable in school, I remember.”

She sighed and turned back to him, setting the rag down on the counter again. “Yeah,” she said softly. “We used to be, and then -”

She shrugged again, and he felt a pang of something in his chest. It was easy to see this was hard for her to talk about. He wished he’d never showed her the engagement announcement. When she didn’t move, he did, coming around to the other side of the island. He pulled out one of the stools and sat down a bit awkwardly, then patted the one next to him and gave her a small smile. She flashed him a half smile in return and sat down beside him.

When she looked up at him her eyes were a touch watery. He reached inside his jacket and retrieved a silk handkerchief, embroidered with his initials in shiny gold thread. She took it and dabbed at her eyes, then spread it out over her lap, her palms smoothing it in every direction, over and over until it was as flat and stretched as she could get it.

“A. G,” she read out loud after she finally stopped fidgeting. “What’s the A for?”

Gold cringed. He knew she’d ask eventually. Somehow he managed to go most of his existence in this town without many knowing his full name. He was always just Mr. Gold. It was easier that way, less personal, less attachment. And less chance of having to open himself up to anyone. That never ended well.

She leaned into him, bumping her shoulder against his. “Come on, Gold,” she said, smiling. “You don’t want me to start guessing, it will get ugly fast.”

Gold gave her a withered look. “Miss French -”

“Lacey,” she corrected. She opened her mouth, clearly ready to start calling out all manner of terribly awkward names beginning with the letter A, but paused.

He sighed. “Fine. It’s Aldous,” he said, his nose wrinkling as he spoke his own name.

She blinked. “What?”

He looked down at his hands, folded in his lap, feeling his face heat with embarrassment. “Aldous,” he repeated quietly.

“What, like the author?” she asked. “Brave New World and all that?”

He nodded, solemnly, not looking at her. “After my mother’s father, or so my Aunts told me.”

She smiled at him, but he kept looking at a spot somewhere in the middle of the marble. “You hate it, don’t you?”

“Not exactly.” He sighed again and shrugged. He frowned a bit and picked at some nonexistent lint on his knee. 

It was true, mostly. He didn’t _hate_ his name, but having others wonder at what it might be gave him a certain mystique, and a natural distance from people. It seemed Neal had never told his friends what it was, despite Gold never insisting he keep it secret.

“I like it,” she said quietly.

Gold swallowed, looking down at the floor. He folded his hands together, his thumb fidgeting with the ring he wore on his right hand. She touched his shoulder and he turn his head just enough to look at her. Her hand squeezed him and he felt the warmth of the gesture to his toes.

Lacey’s hand fell away, trailing down his arm before she stood. Then she handed the handkerchief back to him, holding it until he had taken it between his thumb and index fingers. She tugged slightly on the fabric, letting him pull it back before she let go, a playful smile on her face.

“I swear, I won’t tell a soul,” she said, and winked at him.

He bent his head and nodded, running the silk handkerchief between his fingers. Then he looked up at her with a slightly wider smile. “Thank you.”

She shrugged, her lips still curved in amusement, and then stepped around him, brushing against his shoulder and across his back. The act felt so intentional he shivered and immediately popped up off the stool. His legs pushed it back as he moved, making a sharp scraping sound against the kitchen floor.

Lacey turned, her eyebrows raised in question. “You okay?”

He nodded curtly. “Yes. I, um, I just remembered I left some papers on my desk at the shop. I need to fetch them if you don’t mind.” 

His hand flexed nervously around his cane as she looked at him. He wondered if she could see through him and if she touched him that way just to throw him off. But then she shrugged again and picked up her rag, moving to the sink to rinse it.

“No problem here,” she replied, holding the rag in the stream of water as she waited for it to warm up. “See you in a bit then?”

“Yes.” Gold swallowed and nodded. “Yes.”

Then he all but fled from his own house.


End file.
